Someday We'll Know
by whitticisms
Summary: In which Hermione wonders when she and Ron will set aside their stubborness and admit it!


Someday We'll Know  
  
A/N: Just something that popped into my head while I was extremely bored. I would've made it a songfic, because I love the song, but I don't know how to line it up.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned it I wouldn't bother with fanfiction.  
  
Someday he'll know how I feel about him. I used to be confused about who I really liked. I never had a crush on Viktor, I decided. I guess I was just using him, to get to Ron. I knew he was thick, but I never knew he was that thick. He may have been jealous, but it never hit him.  
  
I dropped so many hints. Subtlety, that was my way. Apparently, I should have been a tad more obvious, so it would penetrate his skull. From before the Yule Ball to after it, I did what I thought was telling him, and, as I had anticipated, he still had no idea what was going on. What do I have to do to get him to understand?  
  
I as well as told him I liked him, during the infamously known "Yule Ball fight." Some of the people who were in the Common Room at that time still tease us about it. Not face to face, but sometimes, if Ron and I walk by them in the corridors we'll hear, "Oh look! It's the old married couple!" This causes Ron to turn the same color as his hair and for me to murmur as many curses under my breath as I can think of, even though my wand is in my bag. Not at the people whispering at us, but him, for not telling me how he truly feels and stopping himself for snogging me senseless right there in the middle of the hall, not caring how many points any teacher would dock form Gryffindor because of it (actually, it would be me not caring how many points docked. Ron doesn't care anyway)  
  
We're in denial. We have been ever since we met each other on the train. Ron refused to be friends with me because I had told him there was dirt on his nose, I because of his negligence of personal hygiene. Through first year we argued off and on, quietly about petty little things. We were bound for life though, when Harry intercepted and saved the Sorcerer's Stone.  
  
Second year was the same. We argued quietly, then I was absent from Harry's and his company for a few months, as I was Petrified. I think it was being Petrified that made me realize I liked him. The fact that I could have died without him knowing really terrified me and I vowed when I woke up I would tell him. I didn't, however. It was so exciting, being back again, being alive, and I pushed it into the back of my head until I met up with him in Diagon Alley the summer before third year.  
  
Third Year was the first time I ever felt like Ron and I would never speak again. The conflict this year was the cat I had purchased for my thirteenth birthday was apparently trying to consume his rat. Eventually it did (at least, all evidence pointed to that) and Ron refused to speak to me. Even Harry sided with him. I was miserable the majority of that year, what with juggling all my extra classes, and I really needed a friend. I spent most of my time at Hagrid's, immersed in Buckbeak's case, trying to save his life. Then came the day Hagrid sent me Buckbeak's fate. He would be executed. I searched the castle, trying to find Harry and Ron, and ended up back at the Fat Lady's portrait, where I finally found them. Ron immediately decided I was trying to get them into trouble, and that's when I told them. Ron softened quickly, and told me I wouldn't need to work on the case alone this time, that he would help with the appeal.  
  
I couldn't help it. The emotions I felt throughout the year, the constant battle Ron and I had, all came flooding to me, and I flung my arms around his neck and sobbed my heart out. I told him how sorry I was about Scabbers and he consoled me by telling me he was old and had to die sometime. He looked very awkward throughout the whole ordeal, and I guess that was when I knew my feelings toward him were reciprocated. Call it women's intuition, I don't know, but at that moment I knew, someday we'd tell each other.  
  
That day has yet to come.  
  
Fourth Year, he constantly fought with me about Viktor and how I was "fraternizing with the enemy," which I certainly wasn't. I knew what I was doing, but I wasn't about to tell Ron! When I said I was "using" Viktor, I didn't mean the way some may be thinking. We never kissed or came into actual physical contact. He did invite me to Bulgaria, but I declined the offer, and explained I thought of us as nothing more than just good friends. He smiled, and wished me good luck. He even knew it was Ron! I decided then I was in love with the world's biggest idiot. Ron wasn't the only jealous one that year. I despised Fleur Delacour. She had the nerve to kiss him. It drove me insane that she could do the very thing I couldn't bring myself to do.  
  
At the end of the year, at the train station, I was scared for Harry, despite my so- called "personal life," which I had yet to develop. I kissed him on the cheek, in what I hoped was a purely platonic way, to let him know I cared and that I was there for him. I didn't dare look at Ron until Harry left with his aunt and uncle. When I finally did, he was gaping at me in a disbelieving way. He left his perch (the barrier he was casually leaning against, surveying the sights before him as though he would never see any of us again) and walked over to me. I looked up at him, and he asked me.  
  
"You don't like Harry, do you?"  
  
"No," I answered. "Not Harry, at least." I looked straight into his eyes as I said this. Do you think this would be a blatant enough hint for Ronald Weasley? Of course not.  
"Oh, okay then. Goodbye Hermione," He said. Then he turned away.  
  
"Goodbye Ron," I said softly. I turned back to my trunk to begin heaving it over to my parents car. Then I felt someone wrap their arms around me.  
  
"Hi Mum!" I said, turning around to return the embrace. Then I gasped.  
  
Ronald Weasley was hugging me! I couldn't believe it. So I hugged him back, unable to think of anything else to do. He hugged me tighter.  
  
When he finally let go, he asked, "You didn't think I would leave without really saying goodbye, did you?" His blue eyes twinkled with happiness.  
  
"No, of course not...Well, goodbye, Ron!" I said.  
  
"Goodbye Hermione," he said finally, before hugging me quickly one last time. Then he was gone.  
  
I walked on air the rest of that day. I couldn't get over it. I also couldn't wait until I saw him again. That day came, two weeks later. A letter arrived, from Dumbledore, telling me to go to the Burrow, where I would be safer if Voldermort decided to come after me. I arrived there, happy as I had been since that day on the platform. Ron and I were normal toward each other, through the Burrow and Grimmauld Place. Ron gave no intention of wanting to hug me again. Especially when Harry arrived. We knew what had happened to him, and he wasn't happy with us because we couldn't tell him anything about the wizarding world through our letter, in case they were intercepted.  
  
And here we are, in our Fifth Year, both Prefects, spending more time with each other, than with Harry, and still, we can't tell each other. But I know we will. Someday he'll know. Someday I'll know.  
  
Until then, denial is the easier route.  
  
A/N: There you go! You know what to do now. 


End file.
